Which was actually the truth. Her heart rate had slowed to normal, and the threat of a stress-induced attack of tachycardia was well behind her now.
And she suspected she’d remain that way as long as that strange malady didn’t strike again. Had that been Rawls’s reason for sending Kait over? To make sure she wasn’t alone if that awful burning agony struck again? Or had he hoped to facilitate a discussion between her and Kait on the supposed benefits of metaphysical healing?
When it came right down to it, it didn’t matter why Rawls had sent Kait over. The woman’s mere presence brought a distinct sense of discomfort now that she knew about Kait’s claims of hands-on healing, and the fact that Kait knew she knew added to the tension. If he’d just been concerned about her being alone, Beth would have been a better choice. The fact that he’d reached out to Kait, rather than Beth, indicated he’d had dual purposes when choosing his proxy.
“Did Rawls happen to tell you what’s going on with him?” Kait finally asked while slathering a thick gloss of butter on the bread. She set the knife down and inhaled the slice in three bites.
Some of Faith’s suspicion eased at the other woman’s obvious appreciation of the zucchini bread. It was difficult to remain distant when your adversary appreciated your baking.
“No. He’s been annoyingly closemouthed about everything,” Faith said.
“Too bad. He doesn’t say much, but I know Marcus is worried about him.”
It took a moment for Faith to remember that Cosky’s given name was Marcus.
“I’m sure he’ll talk to someone when he’s ready,” Faith said, uncomfortably aware her voice sounded wooden.
Kait simply nodded. “Well, if you’re okay with it, I’ll stick around for a while.”
Faith started to insist, again, that she was fine and didn’t need the company, when a third reason for Kait’s sudden presence occurred to her. Maybe Kait was the one in search of companionship. After all, her lover was one of the men on that helicopter, immersed in a dangerous situation and quite possibly under fire. Maybe Rawls had known Kait needed a distraction and provided her with one.
If that were the case, it was too bad he hadn’t run his plan by her first, because she sucked at providing emotional support. Invariably, she always said the worst possible thing and made the recipient of her ineptness feel even worse than they had before.
Or she fumbled about in uncomfortable silence without the first clue as to what to say . . . rather like she was doing at the moment.
“You know that no one expects you to do all the cooking, right?” Kait dragged one of the counter stools back and took a seat. “We could make up a schedule, give everyone a day, and take the pressure off you.”
Relieved that the conversation had drifted away from the missing men and their mission, thereby disrupting any feeble attempts at reassurance on her end, Faith smiled more naturally.
“I love cooking,” she admitted. “I find it quite soothing. Besides, can you imagine Commander Mackenzie cooking us dinner?”
They shared an amused smile at the thought. But soon the worried furrow returned to Kait’s forehead. Faith fussed with the dish towel, straightening it out and lying it across the edge of the sink with painstaking obsessiveness while the silence built.
“I’m confident the mission went as directed. They definitely planned for any contingency,” Faith finally mumbled, compelled to fill the weighty silence.
Kait’s smile looked forced. “I’m sure you’re right.” Except she sounded far more worried than certain. “Are you packed and ready for our new home away from home?”
Ahh, Cosky must have told her about the safe haven they were sending all the civilians to. Maybe that news was partially responsible for her obvious misery.
“I haven’t even started,” Faith admitted. Not that she had much to pack anyway, just the two changes of clothing and other essentials Wolf had picked up for her. “When is this happening—do you know?”
While Mackenzie had informed her that she’d be accompanying the rest of the women and arriving children, he hadn’t bothered to tell her when that would be.
“Tomorrow sometime. Zane’s brother is meeting the chopper and escorting us to our new refuge, but he can’t make the drop-off point until early afternoon.” She sounded tense, but resigned.
Curiosity stirred. Faith had expected frustration and arguments from the other women, not grudging acceptance. “You seem okay with this . . . ?”